


love's such an old-fashioned word

by micksgotkicks



Series: five times my writing was better than the magicians [3]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, eliot fixes some things that definitely needed fixing, they deal with some of their shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micksgotkicks/pseuds/micksgotkicks
Summary: The Monster is gone and Eliot has a promise to keep.





	love's such an old-fashioned word

**Author's Note:**

> part three because i'm crossing my fingers for a reunion this week and i wanna get all my ideas out before then.
> 
> you know _exactly_ what song the title and lyrics are from, c'mon.

_can't we give ourselves one more chance?_

~

It takes Eliot three days after the Monster leaves his body for him to build up the courage to knock on Quentin’s door.

He’d woken up in his body shocked, Margo holding him tight and his friends/obligatory quest mates standing around him. His eyes immediately sought out Quentin, hovering at the edge of the circle with a familiar look of worry plastered across his face.

Hugs had been exchanged, updates on what exactly the Monster had been up to while inhabiting Eliot’s body had been shared, and the realization of how much he’s really missed finally hit him.

Despite having been inhabited by a god-killing creature for over a month and a half, Eliot felt fine. His arms were a bit sore and he could've been dressed better, but for all intents and purposes, he’d felt a lot worse before. The pain he felt was about on par with a mild hangover.

Even though he vehemently objected, both Margo and Alice, of all people, insisted he go to the infirmary. He used the lack of privacy the healers allowed him as an excuse for the first day.

The second day, Margo returned to Fillory. She’d promised to visit when she could, take care of Fen, and that he would be welcomed home with open arms whenever he wanted. 

Eliot had gone back to the Physical Kids Cottage that night to drink, only to discover all the alcohol had complex wards added to them. A parting “gift” from his favorite High King, it seemed, so Eliot slept instead.

The third day, he knew he couldn’t put it off. 

Quentin had stayed with him in the infirmary, but he hasn’t seen him since. 

Eliot swore he wouldn’t do this to him, not again, so he musters up what little dignity he has and marches up the stairs to Quentin’s room.

He barely knocks once before the door swings open.

Quentin stands in the doorway, one hand pressed to the edge of the frame and the other dangling awkwardly at his side.

Eliot doesn’t know what to say, because he can’t imagine what it’d been like to see the Monster walking around with the face of his friend for so long.

“Hey,” Quentin finally says.

“Hi.”

They stare at each other, and Quentin looks beautiful. His hair is shorter and his shirt is rumpled but he’s so _Q_ that it makes Eliot’s heart thump uncomfortably in his chest.

“I haven’t seen you since—“ 

“I didn’t know you were—“

They both stop mid-sentence and Eliot feels almost as nervous as Quentin looks. He can't make it awkward, not how it'd been between Alice and Quentin during the quest. It would kill Eliot if their relationship ever got to that point.

“Margo went back to Fillory,” Eliot says, struggling to fill the silence. “She’s gonna try to fix things with Fen.”

Quentin nods. “I heard.”

Eliot reaches out, searching for Quentin’s arm, hand, anything. He just needs to touch him and know it’s really him and not some diluted version conjured up by his isolated mind.

When Quentin flinches though, Eliot’s heart breaks.

“Sorry, Q, I didn’t think...”

And he didn’t, because Eliot _never_ thinks, never even considers that what the Monster did while in Eliot’s body may have fucked Quentin up more than he realized.

Quentin looks at him with that kicked puppy expression of his. “Wait, El, I—“

He reaches out and grabs Eliot by the wrist. They stand there wordlessly, inches apart and yet so much farther.

“You don’t have to force yourself, not for me.” Eliot’s voice is barely above a whisper.

The Monster is lucky it’s already dead, because if it hadn't been by the time Eliot got out, he would’ve unleashed absolute hell for what it did to Quentin.

“I know it’ll take time.” Eliot turns his wrist in Quentin’s hand so he can lace their fingers together. “I don’t want to push you, but I’ll be here when you need me.”

Quentin stares at him, seemingly searching his face for something. He studies him with a softer expression than before, one more akin to how they looked at each other in another time, another life.

Finally, Quentin steps closer. He presses his free hand to Eliot’s shirt, still looking up at him.

“I know it wasn’t actually you, but it still hurt.” Quentin’s voice is low. “He’d touch me, in little ways like...like how you would. I didn’t know if that was because he was in your body or if he was just trying to use it against me but...”

Quentin’s words crack towards the end and he suddenly falls into Eliot’s arms. Eliot catches him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and in truth, it is.

“I missed you,” Quentin sobs into his chest. His shoulders shake and Eliot runs a hand between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back in slow, soothing motions.

“I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere,” Eliot promises.

Quentin presses his face into Eliot’s shirt, sucking in a ragged breath of air.

Eliot kisses his forehead with a gentle reverence he only ever reserves for Quentin.

“I love you.” Eliot whispers it into his hair, a quieter confession than the one he'd practiced in his head.

Quentin freezes, still clutching Eliot’s waistcoat as he pulls back enough to look at him. His eyes are red and pricked with tears.

“I love you.”

Eliot says it again, firmer, more tangible than the first time.

Quentin blinks. Once. Twice.

Eliot swallows. “I just—I needed you to know.”

He knows he may be too late, that what the Monster’s done may have damaged the red thread of their relationship beyond repair.

“I love you too,” Quentin says.

It’s barely there, said aloud for only Eliot to hear, and it makes his heart sore.

“I didn’t—I couldn’t tell anyone else,” Quentin murmurs, “I wanted you to hear it first.”

Eliot’s heart breaks at his words, thinking of Q being alone, suffering in the quiet of his head just like he had in his ‘happy place.’ And all because Eliot had been too afraid to love Quentin, let himself _be loved_ by Quentin, back on the steps of the Whitespire throne room. 

They’re here now, though, and Eliot is going to keep his promise—he is going to be brave.

He takes Quentin’s face in his hands, as gently as he can.

“Is this alright?” he asks, and Quentin gives a little nod, bright eyes not leaving Eliot’s.

They kiss, softly, a tender brush of lips, because it’s all they need. Maybe in the days to come there with be more intimate kisses, more heated ones fueled not just by love but desire and longing and memories of another life. 

But right now, this is all they need.

~

_why can't we give love that one more chance?_

**Author's Note:**

> *banging pots and pans together* hey syfy, LET! THEM! KISS!


End file.
